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The Way To A Soldier's Heart
GINA WILKINS
A family for her daughter?Elle O’Meara’s happy being a single mom to her adopted two-year-old, Charlotte. Even so, when Shane Scanlon starts coming in to her bakeshop, he becomes a bright spot in her days. The handsome former army medic even strikes up a friendship with her daughter, making Elle wonder if there’s room in her life for the excitement he could bring.Then Elle discovers why Shane’s really there: he’s Charlotte’s biological uncle and wants her in his family. Elle prefers to believe he won’t take Charlotte away but he’s already lied once. Now she doesn’t know if her connection with Shane was real—or just another lie.
A family for her daughter?
Elle O’Meara’s happy being a single mom to her adopted two-year-old, Charlotte. Even so, when Shane Scanlon starts coming in to her bakeshop, he becomes a bright spot in her days. The handsome former army medic even strikes up a friendship with her daughter, making Elle wonder if there’s room in her life for the excitement he could bring.
Then Elle discovers why Shane’s really there: he’s Charlotte’s biological uncle and wants her in his family. Elle prefers to believe he won’t take Charlotte away, but he’s already lied once. Now she doesn’t know if her connection with Shane was real—or just another lie.
Shane reached out as if to take the photo, but Elle jerked back to avoid his hand.
She reached up to snap on the light, then opened the folder. Inside it, she found a second copy of the photograph and a sheet of paper with her name printed on it, her address—both home and business—her age, marital status, even her ex-husband’s name. Charlotte’s name appeared at the bottom of the page. Her full name. Charlotte Michelle O’Meara. Followed by her date of birth, the hospital where she’d been born and her date of adoption.
Elle lifted her gaze very slowly to Shane, struggling to understand. Her insides were knotted, her throat so tight it was all she could do to speak. “What the hell is this? Just who are you, Shane? And why have you been spying on me and my daughter?”
Dear Reader (#u7b95896e-438e-52d0-b22b-6aa8c1c30c27),
I come from a large, scattered Southern family: three brothers, lots of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews and “greats” and a dizzying array of in-laws and longtime friends who have become close as kin over the years. Our family gatherings are filled with chatter, laughter and entirely too much good food as four generations swap stories and memories. We are a widely diverse group in just about every way, but one value connects us all: the importance of family, whether by blood, marriage, adoption or simply love.
In this, my second book of the Soldiers and Single Moms trilogy, I return once again to one of my favorite story themes: the definition of family. Divorced single mom Elle O’Meara loves her little adopted daughter, Charlotte, with all of her heart and soul. But when Charlotte’s biological family shows up in the form of the child’s sexy army-veteran uncle, Shane Scanlon, Elle must confront her secret fears. In doing so, she learns that family has many facets—and that love is the ultimate bond.
I hope you enjoy meeting these two families as much as I loved getting to know them myself!
Gina
The Way to a Soldier’s Heart
Gina Wilkins
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Before she even learned to read, GINA WILKINS announced that she wanted to be a writer. That dream never wavered, though she worked briefly in advertising and human resources. Influenced by her mother’s love of classic Harlequin romances, she knew she wanted her stories to always have happy endings. She met her husband in her first college English class and they’ve been married for more than thirty-five years, blessed with two daughters and a son. They also have two delightful grandchildren. After more than one hundred books with Harlequin, she will always be a fan of romance and a believer in happy endings.
For my precious little grandsons—Ephraim, who showed us how to find joy in “party dots,” and Malachi, the newest member of our family. Gigi loves you both!
Contents
Cover (#uabdbd881-3f75-529a-bcbc-2743b5f0910c)
Back Cover Text (#udc2f0809-5fc2-5651-946d-4fc8c8ff1a72)
Introduction (#u3afc8e8e-124b-51ff-b396-696998430173)
Dear Reader (#u6679f326-ac3e-5764-8837-d52fd328fae4)
Title Page (#u6cfdb436-b8c2-5ecd-b202-26b80e8b943a)
About the Author (#u8fe36ce4-3f11-5e9d-ab23-ed0477a20d02)
Dedication (#u9f561212-2be6-5e5f-8b84-431035c8dc98)
CHAPTER ONE (#u97c4b32a-03e3-5949-b224-63cb43dcca34)
CHAPTER TWO (#uaec06c6d-7119-553f-835e-d84a4d1ecf75)
CHAPTER THREE (#u100a0281-6018-572d-b05e-93ccfebfc57d)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf7d3ed27-3eec-5163-b035-c52b3312a041)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u7b95896e-438e-52d0-b22b-6aa8c1c30c27)
UNLIKE HER IMAGINATIVE MOTHER, Elle O’Meara had never once pretended she could predict the future. Janet O’Meara’s so-called talent for occasional precognition was based more on wishful thinking than reality, but most of their friends indulged the little quirk. As for Elle, almost every day brought surprises—mostly good, some bad—and she generally preferred not to try to anticipate the next development. Still, when a dark-haired, blue-eyed man in a black leather jacket, worn jeans and a gray T-shirt sauntered into her little coffee shop on a quiet Wednesday morning in late October, she was struck by the oddest sense of heightened awareness—as if something about this customer was different from the others she’d served that day. Almost momentously so.
Telling herself she’d been spending too much time with her lovable but deliberately eccentric mom, she smiled brightly as she set aside the cloth she’d used to wipe the counter and welcomed the newcomer. “Good morning. Welcome to The Perkery. What can I get for you?”
He was her sole customer at the moment and he swept the overhead menu board with a quick glance. Pastries and other baked goods were listed on the left, soups and sandwiches on the right, but he didn’t spend much time studying either side. He glanced at the now-empty play corral behind the counter, a colorful area filled with toys and toddler books. Elle got the impression this guy didn’t miss many details of his surroundings.
She couldn’t help noticing how nicely his thick, dark lashes framed almost sapphire-blue eyes when he focused on her face again. Her jolt of reaction this time was entirely explainable. Hormones. She supposed it was nice to acknowledge that hers were still in working order, despite being pretty much ignored for the past two busy years.
“Coffee, please. And—” He motioned toward the almost-empty display stand on the counter beside her. “Are those filled doughnuts?”
“Yes, they are. Made fresh this morning. Your choice of raspberry, lemon or Bavarian cream filling. There could be a chocolate left—no, I’m afraid they’re all gone,” she added after a quick double check.
He ordered the raspberry. She liked his voice, she thought as she set the plated pastry on the counter in front of him, along with a big ceramic mug for him to fill at the coffee bar. Deep, rich, nicely modulated. It suited him.
The guy was definitely attractive. Early thirties, close to her own age. Slim but solid build. Square-cut face with strongly carved features. His coffee-brown hair was thick and wavy, carelessly styled in a manner that would make any warm-blooded woman want to play in it. Her fingers tingled at the thought, and she suppressed an exasperated grimace. What was up with her today?
After paying, the man thanked her and carried his plate to a tiny table by the window. He looked around with the idle curiosity of a new customer as he crossed the room in this lull between breakfast and lunch. She saw him smile faintly when he spotted a couple of whimsical plastic jack-o’-lanterns arranged on the shelves of tea-and-coffee-themed merchandise for sale. The splashes of orange and black stood out among the light woods, stainless steel fixtures and ocean-blue walls. Suited to the coastal South Carolina setting, the decor had turned out just as Elle and her business partner, Kristen Boyd, had hoped. Breezy, bright and welcoming.
Tucking her shoulder-length, honey-colored hair behind one ear, Elle reached for her cleaning cloth again. She heard Amber, her employee, clattering around in the kitchen behind her, and she assumed everything was under control in there. Appreciating the momentary quiet in the usually bustling shop, she continued tidying behind the counter, watching surreptitiously as the man filled his cup from the self-serve coffee bar. He skipped creamer and sweeteners. The no-frills type. She wasn’t surprised.
He caught her looking his way after he returned to his table. His somber eyes locked for a moment with hers, causing a tingle of awareness to course through her. She felt a silly urge to fan her cheeks with her hand, but she asked merely, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No, thanks. This doughnut is really good. Did you make it?”
“I did. I’m glad you like it.”
“So, you’re the shop owner?” he asked, lounging back in his seat to converse with her from across the room.
She very much enjoyed this part of her job, meeting and chatting with people from nearby and far away who wandered in for a break and a snack, learning a little about them, sharing a bit of herself. Carolina hospitality was always on the menu in The Perkery—a slogan spelled out right across the top of the menu board above her. Still, it wasn’t often she reacted quite so intensely to a visitor—even one as attractive as this man. “I’m a co-owner. Elle O’Meara.”
“Nice to meet you, Elle.” She got a thrill at the sound of her name spoken in his deep voice, proving yet again that her responses to him were out of the ordinary. “I’m Shane Scanlon.”
He looked at her intently as he said his name, as though she should know it. She searched his features, once again noting the details that made his face so innately appealing, but she was certain she’d never seen him before. She was sure she’d remember if she had. This was not a man who’d be easy to forget. “Hello, Shane.”
He seemed to find an odd sort of satisfaction—reassurance?—in the casual tone of her reply, which made her wonder again if he’d expected a different reaction. Perhaps she was simply reading too much into his expression.
“It’s my first time to visit your town. It’s an interesting area.”
She smiled. “Thanks. We locals agree.”
Dragging her gaze from Shane’s face in an attempt to regain control over those pesky hormones, Elle glanced through the big front window looking out over Salt Marsh Avenue, the main thoroughfare through the business section of Shorty’s Landing. Late October wasn’t prime tourist season. This little town lay close enough to the larger, better known resort communities along the South Carolina coast to benefit from their summer traffic, but just far enough to slow considerably more in the off-season. Fortunately, during the three years The Perkery had been open so far, she and Kristen had built enough local patronage to carry them through those leaner months. They weren’t going to become wealthy, but they were paying the bills and enjoying the work, which was what counted. At least, as far as Elle was concerned.
Before she could dwell on worrisome thoughts about her partner’s recent moodiness, the door that led into the kitchen and office area of the shop burst open behind her. A little bundle of energy rushed through the swinging door, followed more sedately by a caftan-clad woman with henna-red hair and glittery-framed glasses.
“Mommy, Mommy!”
Laughing, Elle scooped up her daughter and nuzzled into her neck, making the toddler giggle. “Hi, baby. Did you have fun at the park with Gammy?”
“Fun with Gammy.”
Charlotte babbled excitedly as Elle removed her windbreaker. At twenty-five months, the toddler’s vocabulary was still limited to short phrases and somewhat random words, but Elle was able to follow fairly well. Charlotte had played on the swings and in the sandbox, both favorite activities during her almost-daily park outings.
Three middle-aged women, local friends who met for coffee every Wednesday, entered the shop from the front door, laughing and chattering as the bell jingled. Elle’s mother stepped up to the counter to greet the trio by names and take their orders, freeing Elle to settle Charlotte into the play corral. She dropped a kiss on her daughter’s fine, curly brown hair as she set her down and handed her a toy. Charlotte was an easygoing child who was almost always smiling, happy to entertain herself for the most part, though she enjoyed being in the shop with her family around her. Elle loved having a job that allowed her to bring her daughter to work with her.
Seeing Charlotte grinning at someone, Elle glanced around, expecting to find one of the women interacting with the toddler. Instead, it was the man—Shane, she reminded herself—taking advantage of the free-refill policy and topping off his cup at the coffee bar while studying the little girl in the play area behind the counter. Something about Shane’s expression caught Elle’s attention. For a fleeting moment, he just looked so...well, sad, she decided. How could anyone look at her daughter’s adorable blue-eyed, dimple-chinned face and still feel sad?
It took Charlotte only moments to work her magic. The little girl giggled at Shane and he smiled in response. A real smile, Elle noted. It pushed sexy, shallow dimples into his lean cheeks. Wow. Once again, she felt warmth surging.
Shane glanced at Elle then, as if sensing her watching him, and she made an effort to compose her expression. “Cute kid you have there.”
“Thank you.”
Now that the other customers were seated at their customary table in a cozy corner, Elle’s mom approached Shane with her characteristic curiosity about a new face in the shop. Especially, Elle thought wryly, a handsome male face.
“Well, hello there. I haven’t seen you in here before. Is this your first time visiting us?” Elle’s Southern-to-the-painted-toenails mother made a habit of greeting and chatting with the customers, finding it hard to imagine that some people simply wanted to place their orders and drink their coffee with a minimum amount of interaction.
Apparently familiar with regional idiosyncrasies, Shane nodded cordially. “Yes, it is.”
“I hope it won’t be your last. I’m Janet O’Meara.” She held out one be-ringed and multi-braceleted hand.
Shane reached across the counter to take her hand. “Shane Scanlon. Nice to meet you.”
He started to pull his hand away, but Janet held on. Elle almost groaned at the all-too-familiar look on her mother’s face. Not this again!
“Oh, my goodness. You’ve led quite the adventurous life, haven’t you, young man?”
Shane shot a quick, questioning glance at Elle before saying cautiously, “I suppose I’ve had my share of adventures.”
“I sense that you’re a single man. A bachelor.”
“Yes, I—”
“And a soldier,” Janet mused, her expression dreamy and unfocused—deliberately so, Elle suspected. “Are you still in the military?”
“No, I—Wait. How did you—”
“I knew it!” she crowed, delighted with herself. “You were in the navy, weren’t you? I see you on a submarine.”
“I was army. A medic. But—”
“Of course. A healer. And now you’re a doctor.”
“No, I—”
“No, not a doctor,” she said quickly. “A... Hmm, you’re in business, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes.”
“Of course you are.”
“Um—”
Laughing musically, Janet patted their clasped right hands with her left, making more bracelets jingle. “Oh, don’t mind me, dear. Sometimes these things just come to me. I’m a little psychic.”
“I see.” He extricated himself quickly, though politely enough.
Janet eyed him with renewed speculation. “Don’t worry, Shane, I don’t know your deepest secrets. Just a few tidbits that came to me when we shook hands.”
Seeing a frown suddenly darken Shane’s eyes, Elle decided it was time to step in. Past time, probably. “Mom, would you mind checking on the vegetarian chili? It’s been simmering for almost an hour and it’s time to add the corn, in case Amber has forgotten.”
